At Close Range

At Close Range
Jessica Andersen

Criminal court judge Hannah Montgomery is presiding over a murder trial in Phoenix, Arizona.When the jury finds the defendant, Bobby Donahue, not guilty, Hannah is convinced they've reached the wrong verdict. Especially when strange things start happening around her…For one thing, a judge she's always trusted is making decisions she doesn't understand. For another, her pediatrician is being questioned in the deaths of several young patients—including Hannah's adopted son. The police say it was murder. Dr. Brian Hampton says he's been framed.Still reeling from grief at the loss of her child, Hannah no longer knows who to believe, who's lying and who's not. Despite her faith in Brian, she begins to wonder if he's betrayed her. Is he connected with Donahue? Is he responsible for her son's death?

JESSICA ANDERSEN

AT CLOSE RANGE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Contents

Cast of Characters

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Coming Next Month

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cassie Dumont—The Bear Claw Crime Lab’s prickly evidence specialist must defend her territory from a FBI interloper while she struggles to identify a killer. When the murderer targets Cassie, will her greatest nemesis prove to be her strongest ally?

Seth Varitek—Hampered by memories of his wife’s death and his blazing attraction for Cassie, the federal evidence analyst must use all his skills to identify the murderer before it’s too late.

Fitzroy O’Malley—The former Bear Claw evidence specialist retired without warning, claiming he wanted more time for fishing.

Alissa Wyatt—The crime scene analyst is one of Cassie’s closest friends, but her support may not be enough this time.

Maya Cooper—The third member of the crime lab hasn’t been acting like herself lately.

Bradford Croft—The kidnapper was killed months ago, yet the cases seem to be connected. Was the murderer his partner, or is there something else going on?

Nevada Barnes—Is his connection to the first crime scene enough to make him a suspect?

Denver Lyttle—Dishonorably discharged from the military, this explosives expert could be responsible for the bombs used during the kidnapping case and the current murders.

Chief Parry—Bear Claw’s chief of police fears that friction between his officers and the women of the new crime lab will distract the task force.

Prologue

The hunter stalked his prey in the darkest part of the night, while the city of Bear Claw slept unsuspecting.

He cruised the streets and was soothed by the hiss of tires on salty wet pavement. He passed the shopping areas, the ski runs and the museum district. He saw that the Natural History Museum was festooned with banners announcing the upcoming grand opening of the new Anasazi exhibit, which would feature artifacts from the pueblo-dwelling Native Americans who had lived in the area long ago.

Then he turned toward one of the residential suburbs and passed a convenience store, and a darkened gas station that claimed to be open 24/7.

Moments later, trusting that the wet road had no memory of his tracks, the hunter pulled up in front of the modest split-level rental where his prey had gone to ground.

She didn’t know it yet, but she was waiting for him. Had been since he’d first noticed her on the slopes, slim and sleek, handling her board like a pro, then pausing to shake out her long blond mane of hair. She was in her late teens, early twenties—young enough to have Daddy foot the bills, old enough that she slept in a basement room with a separate door to the outside, so she could come and go as she pleased.

So he could come and go as he pleased.

It had been three months since he last hunted, since his idiot partner had gotten too caught up in playing games with the police, too caught up in his own press. With Bradford Croft dead at the hands of the cops, the hunter had bided his time, suppressed his urges. But the changing of the seasons had heated his blood. As the predators in Bear Claw Canyon began to emerge into the spring thaw, he had emerged from his other life to hunt.

He left the engine running and the doors unlocked, fearing no thief in this suburban neighborhood. The walkway to the basement door was shoveled and salted, and wet enough that he would leave no footprint—which was important, because Croft had fallen to a footprint. The hunter wouldn’t be so sloppy. He was mindful of the evidence left by his passing.

The doorknob turned easily beneath his fingertips, further evidence that she had been waiting for him. He opened the door and stepped into the carpeted room, which was steamy with too much heat. He caught a whiff of warm, female musk and his flesh hardened in response.

He craved the sexual thrill of the hunt.

There was no light from outside, and no light inside the room save for a crack of yellow brightness spilling from beneath an adjoining door. His dark vision was better than most, allowing him to detect the girl’s body beneath the rumpled covers of a twin-sized cot.

He strode toward the bed, blood riding high with anticipation.